Vices of the Valerious
by Virtuous Vampire
Summary: How did Anna and Velkan's mother die? In the heat of battle or the throws of passion? At the hand of friend or foe? Features kinky Dracula. Lemonish in places. DracOC. NOW COMPLETE! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello lovely readers! This is part one of a two-shot with Dracula and an OC. Feedback is much welcome, just don't flame me.**

**Disclaimer; I don't own the movie or characters from Van Helsing. I do, however own this storyline and my OC Kasmira.**

**Dedication; To Valeska Vampire Queen for being so good as to edit this for me. If there are any blunders they were done at my own hand. Thanks for your help hun!xxx**

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**Vices Of The Valerious**

The clink of metal on the hard surface resounded so her husband glanced up from his dinner, slightly annoyed. Kasmira realised how nervous she truly was when her quivering hand dropped her knife to the floor. His expression changed from irritation to concern as he noticed her state of unease. She didn't wish to look upon his face so she reached for her knife so as to give herself an excuse to look away. His impatience she could handle, but sympathy or tenderness she felt she did not deserve.

She retrieved the knife all too soon and was forced to meet his gaze again.

"Kas, he will be fine. He is a young man now, he must change position from protected to protector."

Although his words were meant to be comforting they had the opposite affect on her. They confused her slightly until the realisation hit her- Velkan, of course! He was to go hunting today. After the werewolves and the brides. How could she have let such an important event slip her mind?

Because all you can think about is him, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. He had not visited for weeks, possibly months and this made her tense and fidgety. Her restlessness was caused by her longing for his touch, an addiction that she was experiencing withdrawals from. She would awaken in the middle of the night with her skin coated in her own sweat from the sweltering heat and yearn for the icy skin of her lover to ease her discomfort. He had not come and part of her feared that he had found another, someone younger perhaps.

Her weakness distracted her from everything else, made her appear dazed. Made her forget that her only son might not return home. Part of her hated her lover, but not as much as she had come to hate herself.

She glanced out of the nearby window where Anna was playfully throwing snowballs at Velkan. He was doing his best do ignore her, by hauling his bag full of weaponry onto his back. A look of steely determination adorned his face and Kasmira found herself longing for his boyish grin instead. He was almost a man now, yet all she wanted to do was cuddle him protectively against her bosom, like she had done when he was younger. She wished she had taken more notice during dinner. She could have read his face, his fears and attempted to soothe them. But she had been too consumed with thoughts of her paramour and that everything else became intangible when he entered her mind. The children had left the table early, leaving herself and Boris to pick half-heartedly at their food. She felt a slight prickle in her eyes as ashamed tears began to well. What if her selfish lusts had cost her a final meal with both of her children? What if all four of them never sat together at dinner again? She cursed herself for not savouring the experience. She cursed him for distracting her.

"I believe it best to send Anna to Karsden's while we are hunting."

There was no inquiry in her husbands voice, he was merely stating what he intended to do. It obviously didn't matter what she thought.

She continued to play with her food with her fork as she decided how best to respond.

"Why, is she not safe in my care?" she sounded petty even to her own ears. She heard Boris sigh inwardly. Still, she refused to meet his gaze.

"She enjoys young Varenka's company, it will distract her from her brother's absence. Also, there are plenty men to guard her over there."

"Am I not worthy of protection?"

"Just a moment ago you denied that such protection was necessary. Now you feel vulnerable alone?"

She only scowled at him, not bothering to defend herself.

He continued to explain. "I feel that it would be best if we were separated. Velkan and I will be hunting in separate groups so if one group is attacked, one of our survivals is guaranteed. I believe dividing yourself and Anna will benefit the cause in the same way. You will lock your bedroom door and windows and wait for our return. You have weapons, should there be an attack."

He sounded disbelieving that she should be the target of an attack. She didn't know whether to be offended or relieved. Did he believe that as an aging woman not a Valerious by birth, that she was not a worthy victim? Did he expect her to be grateful that she might live to see her children die? She was in hell and didn't know what to pray for without being plagued by guilt. Pray for her own survival and witness her family's deaths or pray for her own demise so that her family members could live to die another day? Or go against everything she had been taught on her arrival to Vaseria over fifteen years ago and pray for him to show himself to her again?

0000

After dragging herself up the staircase and bolting her door shut behind her, Kasmira sat in front of her mirror. She stared down into her lap for a full minute as she tried to regain her breath. Every movement she made these days seemed to remind her that she was no longer at her prime. No longer a blossoming rose, she was beginning to wither. Old age was beginning to show itself, like the creeping cracks that inched their way across unsuspecting ice. She did not wish to look at herself as she steadied her breathing as she didn't want to see a red faced, bloated old woman staring back at her.

She had been trim once, but after giving birth to two children she had failed to retain her former shape. She hadn't sprouted outwards in an obvious way, but had undeniably become softer…fuller. Now she was a hollow shell of her former beauty. An echo of a booming shout across a cliff top. Nothing more. Envy reared it's ugly head as an image of the eldest bride flashed across her mind.

Verona had appeared ancient to her on her arrival when she was nineteen. Now she looked about the same age. Or did the raven haired harpy look even younger? The thought sickened her.

What was she doing? She should be worrying about her husband, her children, not agonising over her lost youth. She should put her responsibilities as a mother first not last. She finally gathered the courage to look at her reflection. The sight wasn't as awful as she had anticipated. Her face was far narrower than the contorted image that she had summoned to her mind's eye. Her cheeks were not half as puffy or flushed. Although mildly satisfied that she had not grown into a podgy old woman yet, a part of her was deeply disturbed by the fact that a mother's love neglected to shine from her eyes. That's what her lover did to her-made her crazy with yearning and lust that was soon quenched with her own shame. As much as a part of her longed to be rid of him, she knew she would not survive if he were to perish. She was like a woman that had grown weary of life but could not help but breath in air all the same. He was a necessity. She needed him all the time, whether she wanted him or not.

Lost in thought, she failed to notice the other presence in the room until there was a barely perceivable creak in one of the floorboards. Before she could whirl around, a shroud of blackness engulfed her as a pair of skilled hands tied a now familiar blindfold across her line of vision.

Her mind longed to rebel against the man that she knew was behind her but her body was both traitorous and selfish and she was powerless to stop it from leaning back into his waiting arms.

_At last! _her skin seemed to sing as the rational part of her mind begged him to stop.

Then the cool, lifeless breath of Count Dracula tickled her right ear.

"Missed me, love?"

She tried to suppress a groan and was unsuccessful. His rich, mellifluous voice was as soothing as music. His tone made her grateful that she was sitting, her knees would have gave out beneath her otherwise. His husking whisper was an oxymoron, it was both a promise of great pleasure and a threat of punishment if she dared to disobey him. She pursed her lips in an attempt to stop herself from dishing out a retort. It would do her no good.

She felt his eyes on her face and heard the smirk in his voice as he goaded her, while releasing her hair from it's many pins. "Where's that brazen girl? The insolent brat from nigh twenty years ago? Has she locked herself away and sent you in her place? An unfeeling mask?"

She tried and failed to ignore his comment. "And you would know well about being an emotionless mask!"

Colour rushed to her cheeks as a result of her anger. She regretted it instantly as it just proved what a strong hold he had over her and her emotions. He jerked her head back by the hair and ran his nose over her neck in response. The tip of his nose was surprisingly pacifying as it traced a path on her scorching neck. It felt like a cool stream soothing burnt vegetation. It didn't matter what the weather was like, she was always burning without him. His frosty touch made her feel as if she were being submerged in ice. It was heaven. A reprieve from the sweltering claustrophobia of her life.

"There's still life in the old lady yet!" he chuckled and she felt his muscular chest vibrating against her back. "Don't become too defiant though…remember what happened last time, dearest?"

Indeed she did. About five years ago after one of their "dances", he had laughed at her desperation to see his eyes. She had pleaded with him for a glance, a peep into the windows of his damned soul, but he refused to give in to her.

"You don't want me to see them because you know I'll be disappointed. Boris has beautiful eyes, like chestnuts! I'll bet yours are a dreary, expressionless grey!"

The next day Boris arrived home with an eye missing and every time she looked at him she felt guilty. He believed Dracula had done it because he feared him but only she knew that he had done it to prove a point. Whenever she felt like snapping at her lover after that particular incident, she bit down on her tongue. Hard.

Her hair was now released from it's pins and tumbled down her back in waves of chocolate. As soon as her locks were freed she had felt him loosening the strings that bound her corset together. Simultaneously she found herself becoming less tense, the shedding of her clothes felt liberating, made her feel in control. Well…as in control as possible when one is being seduced by a centuries old vampire.

She wished more than anything that she could have a clear image of him in her mind. As her corset fell to the ground he lifted her skirts and rubbed his skilled fingers across her body's most sensitive spot. Her hitched breathing was his reward. Her head rolled back in exquisite agony as his fingers worked their fiendish magic on her lower body. He kissed a trail down her neck while his other hand played with her breasts. Oh, if only she knew what he looked like! The scene would be perfect.

She lifted her head. He noticed her distraction and ceased in his ministrations. Her body mourned the loss of his lips and hands.

"Please….describe yourself to me." Her voice sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

He chuckled again to her chagrin. Could he never take her seriously?

"Oh _dulceata_, I could bear an uncanny resemblance to my servants the German trolls. I could be a monster. Doesn't my anonymity make this all the more exciting? The mysterious dream lover of which you know so very little…."

"You are a monster."

"On the inside yes, but I have never hidden that from you. I could be hideous dulceata and you remain completely ignorant. My eyes could be bloodshot, my skin sagging and withered, my teeth yellow and rotting-" the last part uttered, he bit lightly into her neck, earning him a soft groan of approval. "…and yet you arch against me more desperate for release than a bitch in heat. So you see dearest, an appealing body is only a catalyst in love making. It is not essential."

"You are not hideous."

"Oh?" Her certainty seemed to surprise him.

"You would not be named "The Master of Seduction" if you were ugly. I don't believe that women would throw themselves at you if you if you were unsightly," She didn't mention that after all these years, she knew his body better than she knew her own. She had felt some scars scattered here and there, souvenirs from his years spent in battle. Some women would frown upon them and view them as blemishes, but not her. She was certain that behind every scar was a story, making his marked body a map of his life. Besides these, he was well muscled and his shaft was very well endowed, so much so that when he had entered her the first time it had hurt her. Since then she had gotten used to his size and the pain had quickly turned to pleasure.

"Clever girl, and how do you know that I don't blindfold them _all_?" he snorted.

"Because I have traced your face many times and it is clear. I have felt your teeth buried in my flesh and know that you are lacking none. I have ran my fingers through your hair and found it to be silky smooth….your eyes are the only mystery to me and they alone cannot make you ugly. You only blindfold me because it gives you control. There is no need for you to hide away from anyone else. You enjoy my ignorance because it makes me miserable." Her voice had grown soft, wistful.

He offered no confirmation of her suspicions, but did not deny them either. The moments that followed crept by so slowly that Kasmira wondered if time had stopped completely. When she thought she could bear it no longer she heard a growl of passion in her ear and before she could form a thought, she felt the soft touch of her mattress beneath her. He had moved her so quickly that she felt like she had been transported. She heard him undressing then, the opening of buttons and the unmistakeable clunk of a belt hitting the floor along with his trousers. Lastly, she heard him kick off his shoes and then he was on her.

He kissed her with more passion than she thought was possible for a man to possess. His deft tongue invaded her mouth, ran along every tooth and invited her tongue to dance with it. He was so persistent that she was sure that he had forgotten her need to breathe. Just when this thought began to worry her he broke away. She cringed inwardly as he began to reacquaint himself with the rest of her body. She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment at her deteriorated form. She instinctively shied away and as if he had read her mind he attempted to reassure her.

"_Dulceata_, you are like good wine-your appeal only increases with age. You are soft, voluptuous, _full_. You entice me effortlessly with your curves."

"What of the younger girls in the village?" she choked out.

"I have no use for them now. Perhaps long ago when I could have availed of their sharp bones to impale my enemies on but not in this day and age."

Why did he have to do that? Make her glow with pride and then spoil it by making such barbaric comments? Her anger soon melted into a pool of desire as he tore what remained of her skirt into shreds and began peppering wet kisses on her stomach.

"What were you saying about me being power hungry, love?" he husked as he swirled his tongue around the inside of her navel.

She moaned, unable to focus on his question. She was intoxicated, almost on the brink and she hadn't even been fully consumed yet.

"Perhaps this is a conversation best saved for another time."

Before she could nod in agreement he clasped her buttocks and lifted her upwards. She gasped as his tongue reached it's goal. He explored the shape of her centre, memorizing her taste before plunging his tongue deep inside of her. She bit down on her bottom lip to suppress a scream. Something huge was building inside of her. Something that begged for release. Her body arched against him, helpless to do anything else as he made love to her with his tongue. Her climax did not take long and then she melted like sweetness, like honey on his tongue.

When he resurfaced, her face was plastered with her own hair, the result of thrashing back and forth. He swept her long curls aside and then did something completely unexpected-he untied the blindfold.

She noticed the difference immediately, her forehead and eyelids felt cooler. It was a refreshing sensation. It did not last long as before she could open her eyes he clasped one hand over her line of vision. She yelped in frustration and tried desperately to pry his hand away but to no avail. He was resolute.

"Now, before I do anything rash _dulceata_-why do you want to look me in the eyes? Persuade me to allow you this pleasure."

A million answers sat on the tip of her tongue. Her dream was so close yet so far away. Of course he was in complete control, he enjoyed watching her squirm, struggle to find the right words.

_How to explain?_ Should she say something brave like- _I want to face evil in the eye and stare him down_ or _I want to see if Boris lost his eye for a reason?_

Hundreds of statements like these crowded her mind. Instead of choosing a practical one, a brave one, she chose the one that would state the truth.

"I want to see if you love me."

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**Please review! Thanks for reading.=)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there. Sorry for the delay, the muse was absent. Thank you everyone who reviewed chapter 1. I read each one about 50 times and they all inspired me to write this part.**

**Dedication- For Valeska Vampire Queen for beating this into shape. Thanks Cat!**

**Enjoy! Read & Review!**

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**Vices of the Valerious**

**Chapter 2**

A pregnant silence filled the air, destroying the charged atmosphere that had previously held sway. The unexpected request danced between the king of the vampires and the queen of the gypsies, a giant chasm that threatened to tear them apart. The second the demand had left her lips she had felt his hand stiffen above her eyelids. Precious seconds the size of milestones had passed since the traitorous words had escaped.

_You imbecile!_ Kasmira chided herself. If only she could catch the words and shove them back into her mouth. He would never allow her a glance now, knowing how much it meant to her. It would suit him now more than ever to keep her in the dark. Her admission would only serve to boost his enormous ego.

Still she retained some feeling of satisfaction, knowing that her plea had shaken him so. In a way, it was flattering. He had lived for centuries, had seen and done incomprehensible things, accomplished unimaginable ventures and yet, here he was speechless because a woman had caught him unawares!

Just when she thought that she would go mad, he broke the silence.

"Of course I love you." Her heart soared. "I love every woman I've ever taken to bed." Her heart sank just as quickly. Served her right for daring to hope.

"Then you shouldn't fear showing yourself to me as it will be the same as looking at any other lover," she countered as quick as lightning. If she could argue him into it, she would.

"Why do you assume I am afraid?" he sneered as if the emotion were beneath him, which she realised it was.

"You're afraid I've conjured up an image of you that can't be matched. Perhaps your beauty is no contender against the power of the imagination."

His palm tightened around her eyelids and forehead until it became almost painful.

"Do not try me _dulceata,_ or I'll-"

"You'll what? Blind Boris completely? Ha! What a threat he'll be to you then, crawling on the ground like a dog." The harshness of her own words surprised her. In her desperation for the object of her desire she was becoming callous.

"You are formidable," he whispered, almost admiringly.

"Grant me this boon. Or is he who slew thousands upon thousands too scared to face the scrutiny of an elderly?"

She could feel his resentment at being challenged rolling off him in waves. Her thick-skinned comments finally won out as in a desperate attempt to preserve his vanity, he complied.

"Very well."

As his cool fingers left her clammy forehead, she felt truly free for the first time since their affair had begun. In the split second it would take to open her eyes, some of his power would shift to her. Without further ado, she opened the doors that obscured her vision from a long concealed truth.

Above her, his head tilted so that it was almost resting against hers, was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. German troll indeed! Lone strands of obsidian tickled her face as he began to draw back in order to provide her with a full view of his form.

She began her inspection at his knees. She wished to save his eyes as her final sight. As her gaze crept up slowly, she noted that his thighs were muscular and bore not an ounce of fat. Her cheeks flushed red as her eyes swallowed the sight of his shaft. Without thinking twice about it, she reached out and stroked him, gaining a growl of approval that reverberated from his body to hers. She continued to fondle the source of his lust in her left hand as she stroked a path up his perfectly sculpted chest with the other. She tugged at his small nipples and was rewarded with another moan. As her head ascended to meet his gaze, her curls tickled his chest.

She basked in this new perspective of her routine. She felt that they were making love for the first time. She felt that all five senses were necessary to appreciate the experience.

The dark curtains of dark brown hair obscured her vision momentarily, until she gathered the courage to tuck them aside. What greeted her muddled her feelings. Part of wanted to weep with joy and the other detected some mishap. She proceeded to drink in every feature of his face in an attempt to find the root of her unease.

His skin was clear and milky white as she had suspected. He had high cheek bones, a perfectly shaped nose and thin lips that felt silky soft against her stroking thumb. He was desire personified, lust embodied. She chided herself for previously questioning his beauty. He was the only man that surpassed the fantasy. The demon was disguised as the most beguiling angel, a snake masquerading as a lady's choker, a wolf in sheep's clothing. And yet…

She met his eyes after what felt like an eternity. Instead of finding sparkling eyes overflowing with love and adoration as she had secretly hoped, she found…nothing. His eyes, although a deep shade of blue, betrayed no evidence of affection or warmth. A barren wasteland seemed to reside in the black pits of his eyes, void of any emotion. She was glancing into an ocean that had born witness to hundreds of years of history. Instead of a glistening, thriving blue, the ocean emanated weariness, boredom. Kasmira thought that if she looked closer she would see sunken shipwrecks and centuries old skeletons. The feeling of fulfilment had lasted until she had glanced upon his face.

"Were my eyes worth the fifteen year wait?"

He broke the silence and the spell along with it. She didn't reply. How could she?

As if sensing her disgust, he smirked and in one movement, pulled her kneeling legs out from under her and wrapped them around his waist, making her fall back onto the mattress.

"A pity isn't it?" he said conversationally. "My otherwise perfect form foiled by my emotionless eyes. Well, being hollow does have it's drawbacks." He chuckled as he prepared himself for their favourite activity. "Perhaps an explosion of rapture will distract you from your terrible discovery."

Before she could respond, he slid inside her, hot and hard. She whimpered helplessly as a familiar knot began tightening itself in her lower abdomen. Her body expanded to accommodate him as he pressed harder into her each time. Soon, they were moving like one well-oiled machine, or like dance partners whose routine had been perfectly synchronised. Her hips rose automatically to meet each thrust and the room began to grow hazy as if sparks of heat were hissing and sparking around their writhing bodies.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure arcing up her spine, making her muscles melt. She kept her eyes open, not wanting to miss a single second as his long lashes brushed her neck, as gentle and fleeting as the brush of butterfly wings. His lips scorched a trail of wet kisses down her throat and she dug her nails into the long, lean muscles of his back, relishing the effect it had on him. He hissed in ecstasy as he tried to put off his release. She enjoyed watching him bite down on his lower lip to prevent a cry of gratification from ringing out. His reaction made her feel in control, but the feeling soon vanished as everything became a blur of need and desire, of his cool breath caressing her throat. His rhythm began to falter as his hands slid over her face, her breasts, her hips and finally tilted her so that she swore she saw stars. White light threatened to blind her as her whole body compressed into one single point of pleasure. As he finished, a spellbinding orgasm washed over them both and she was content to see an expression of rapture shining from his otherwise hollow eyes.

As she collapsed, completely spent, he trailed light kisses and bites across her body. The small tremors of euphoria that resulted from these ministrations were akin to the after-shocks that followed an earthquake. He seemed slightly rougher with her than usual and the thought brought pleasure to her. She enjoyed smashing the emotionless mask that he had designed for himself into millions of pieces.

When he had finished branding her body with vampire bites he lay with her for a time. Then she felt his cool body detach itself from hers. She hardly noticed his absence, still wrapped up in her own world of elation. She felt like she was lounging on a soft cloud, a hands breadth from heaven. She slowly regained her grip on reality as she descended back to earth.

Without warning her vision failed like a candlelight being quenched between a finger and a thumb. Before panic could set in, it returned. She sighed in relief before realising that the room seemed different. The air seemed to be pulsing, little flecks of silver were dancing before her eyes, not enough to render her blind, but irritating nonetheless. Her head felt lighter, like it would roll off her neck. In direct contrast, her limbs felt heavier. She felt almost tipsy, except instead of a gentle buzz of happiness she felt almost sick. This had never happened after their trysts before…what had they done differently? She squinted and the silver spots fled momentarily, long enough for her to notice that he was dressing. This part of the dalliance always saddened her and it made no difference that she could now see him. It made her feel like one of those pathetic women in legends and tales, whose lovers' left them for a faraway battle. Funny, she would not know of those stories if he had not told them to her. In the early days of their 'courtship' he had told her countless fables. In order to keep her sweet, she guessed. In the past ten years the stories had ceased. She attempted to conjure up one of these tales but her mind failed her. This terrified her more than anything else.

She squinted at his form which had become hazy and was surprised to see him fully dressed. That had been quick. His lips were forming words, yet she couldn't hear him, as if she were underwater. She strained in an attempt to understand his speech. Finally, his words became coherent.

"Hand me my hair clasp, will you?"

Her curiosity was piqued by his evil smirk and was curious to find out what had made him so smug. Still, she made to reach for the nearby clasp.

Nothing happened.

She commanded her body to move, willed her hand to reach for the clasp but her efforts were in vain. What was wrong with her? Had he paralysed her? Fear bubbled to the surface as she began to panic. She caught his eye and tried to find a clue to her predicament. His laughing eyes glanced down at her body and hers followed suit.

She tried to suppress a scream and failed.

Where she had expected to see a few shallow punctures peppered across her body, there were yawning apertures. The crimson holes easily outweighed the ruddy peach of her skin. The pleasures he had showered on her had kept her ignorant to his more unrestrained actions. The remnants of her post coital ecstasy fled as the prickling of pain began to sting at her battered form.

"You were marvellous _dulceata._ I'm sure you know that I do not lose control easily. During the final steps of our 'dance' as you termed it, you brought my 'less than gentlemanly' urges to the fore. I compliment you. That is no easy feat. Consider them souvenirs of our time together," his voice was a mocking imitation of sympathy.

She was too preoccupied with the thorns jabbing at her nerves to counter. She was forced to stare into his hollow eyes as she could not even manage to move her head.

"Why now?" she finally choked out and the effort wounded her throat.

He moved towards her then and she tried to flinch but could not achieve even that. He was not reaching for her anyway, but for his hair clasp. As he fixed his hair into a ponytail he graced her with a response.

"You have served both sides of the war well. You have raised my enemies into what I hope will soon be respectable warriors. You have been a wonderful distraction to me, but I'm afraid _dulceata,_ that distractions must be terminated once they have served their purpose."

Was that what she was then? An old toy that ceased to amuse him?

He continued, "Boris has become incompetent of late. He is _grateful_ that his family has survived as long as it has. He goes hunting, yes, but his heart is not in it. As for your children…I am but a myth to them. An unknown villain in one of their storybooks. Your death will evoke their wrath, make me _real _to them. Will quicken them once more, will provide me with a fresh generation of vengeful Valerious to play with. I do feel somewhat guilty about dear Anna, losing her mother so young. No matter, someday she may warm my bed as you have. I sincerely hope she inherits your passion." He snapped himself from his reverie and returned to the situation at hand. " You will be more useful in death than you ever were in life. On that subject, how do you feel about providing your enemies with nourishment?"

Her eyes widened in foreboding as she realised what he was talking about. The thought of her fate was even more sickening to her than the possibility of her daughter becoming his lover someday. He scoffed openly at her accusatory glare.

"I wouldn't be a very good husband if I didn't provide for my family, now would I? Having no children that leaves the option of my wives."

"You're leaving me for the scavengers to pick at," she croaked.

"Yes," he drawled, obviously amused by her reaction. "Think of it as thanking them for all the nights you stole me away from them. For every kiss, every caress, a drop of blood shall be spilt."

Now completely dressed, he leaned in close. "Goodbye my love. See you in another life." He kissed her forehead coolly, impassively as if she had ceased to interest him. "Any final words?" he asked in a mock serious tone.

She made the words come, although it was more difficult than pushing a boulder up a steep hill. "You….talk too much," she rasped and was met with a whoop of genuine laughter.

As her life began to seep into the sheets in the form of crimson she began to lose control of her senses. She blinked and her lover was gone, her only reminders of him the gaping holes that were scattered across her naked body and his fading laughter echoing in her ears. As her thoughts began fading away into oblivion, she strained to remember something….

_Velkan!_ She would never see him grow any older, never see him marry and perhaps the most ridiculous thing to cross her mind-she would never see him shave the small stubble that had recently grown on his young face.

Behind her drooping eyelids a scraggily hand beckoned her to follow it beyond the veil. To cross from the world of the living to the world of the dead. She ignored the urge to follow, still trying to clutch at memories. The process was more difficult than finding a needle in a haystack, but still, she persisted. She would not bid farewell to the world without recalling the things that had anchored her there for so long. She would die Kasmira, Queen of the Gypsies with whatever dignity she still possessed, not as some discarded, anonymous plaything.

As dark clouds gathered in her mind, she recalled her second joy. Anna. Beautiful Anna with chestnut curls blowing in the wind, teasing her brother and laughing with child-like glee. She prayed to God that her daughter would not succumb to evil like she had. That she would fight against her darker impulses and win. Most of all she hoped that she would live to be loved by a good man….

_Who will listen to your prayers?_ a voice in her mind mocked. Whether the voice was her own or her lover's she could not tell. It spoke the truth. She had forsaken God long ago when she had willingly decided to warm the Devil's bed. She had pleasured the monster that stalked and killed her family members, because she had let her body's desires hold sway over her mind's.

Her train of thought was cut off as she noticed three dark figures approaching the bed from her open window. She smiled at the irony of the situation-the youngest whore would be killed by the eldest.

Not that that was what the scene looked like to an outside observer. Kasmira was well-aware that it looked as if a group of young women were advancing on an ancient relic. Spring chickens putting an old hen out of her misery. The women who had born at least a hundred children each had no trouble keeping their trim figures, while she who had born two wore stretch marks as constant reminders of her pregnancies across her ruined form.

As the three women loomed closer, their features became more distinctive. The closest form that stood at the head of the bed was Verona. Kasmira found herself comparing the eldest bride to the Count. She had the same piercing, blue eyes, the same high aquiline nose and the same mane of raven black hair. She looked more like his sister than his wife. As her thoughts began to slow, Verona began stroking her hair, before moving the tangled tresses aside to gain access to her neck.

From the corner of her eye, Kasmira spied locks of fire burning across her stomach. Aleera's red curls shrouded her abdomen as if shielding her from something. Quite the opposite-the threat lay beneath the curls. As if to confirm this suspicion, Kasmira felt cool lips parting at her navel. Fangs ready to sink into the tender flesh…

Finally at her right thigh she felt the luminous blond ringlets giggling over her skin. She did not need to look past Aleera to confirm the colour.

A strange vision presented itself to her then. Perhaps her mind was trying to distract her from her growing terror. She remembered a myth the Count had told her years before. The story of how Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love had emerged from the see naked and how the four seasons had draped her in fine clothes. Her current situation seemed to echo the legend, albeit in a darker sense.

The eldest bride was Winter, cool and calculating, with incisors ready to pierce her jugular, Autumn lay her head on her stomach, her wavy orange locks the colour of fallen leaves and Summer's swirling curls danced across her lower body concealing eyes as bright as the bluest sky from her view.

Of course, there were obvious differences between myth and reality. Instead of emerging from the sea, she would drown in a sea of her own blood. She would not be offered garments from her murderers. She would die naked and ashamed before they stripped her of her skin as well. Spring was absent from this gathering. He had left earlier. For although he bore a great resemblance to Winter, he had been her Spring. When she had come to Vaseria she had been cold and lonely. He had warmed her heart and offered her hope. Made her blossom into a confident woman where she had formerly held the title of a timid, slowly opening flower. Now she lay dying, her petals dwindling into nothingness.

Fresh fear engulfed her as the Brides' separate grips tightened simultaneously on her fragile flesh.

A deafening silence rang in her ears, a tolling bell signalling her doom.

Then claws and fangs sank into her body. Soon she was being mauled everywhere, sliced, stroked, pinched. Their breath was ice cold as they crowded around her. She squeezed her eyes shut but it didn't stop her from imagining their contorted faces, savage jaws and sharpened fangs.

She was determined to stop herself from crying out. She trembled and bit down on her bottom lip, drawing blood in the process.

_I won__'t scream! _she told herself. _I won't scream, I won't scr-_

Fangs and nails dug in deeper than ever, burrowing through to her guts. Hands wormed their way inside her and pulled parts of her out. Nails scraped at her skin from the inside, tearing her apart. The pain was intolerable. Her senses dissolved as her brain went wild. She opened her mouth and screamed.

The last thing she heard was her death howls ringing throughout the Valerious manor, as her beloved's wives feasted on her flesh.

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**On that happy note...review?**


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